#v; au tbt

[wolfvirago]

Game Grumps — Pokemon: FireRed  {Sentence Starters} [accepting] [x]

@crystalcracked said: “It might kill me in one hit, but it might not.” // slides Donnie over maybe?

"Do you really want to bet your life on a gamble like that?" They needed to have a proper plan of attack, if they were going to face the enemy. Robin wasn't the best at planning ahead in these circumstances, but she figured that her companion would have some ideas to toss at the wall.

Speaking of which...

Clasped in her hand, she threw a rubber ball at the wall and ceiling, watching it bounce in angles that were almost predictable. She didn't have a brain for the mathematics of it, of course, but it was fun to just engage in a action such as this one.

The rhythmic ka-thunk of the ball as it hits the wall also helps her think.

"You have a shell, which is a good shield, but I dunno. You know more about these guys than I do. My expertise is in monsters, not humans."

[artistmarchalius]

Broppy Capture AU, where Branch didn’t confess after World Tour, but a love confession when all hope seems lost is just what they need to free themselves from Velvet and Veneer.

A version without text can be found under the cut.

[shibemuses]

She had messed up. Overstepped-- a foolish mistake when dealing with the timid, tiny girl. Madoka hadn't ever expected Homura to look like this, or even behave remotely shy.

Sure, Homura was stoic and cold. She was introverted. But it had made her even more beautiful, like watching an owl amongst the branches of a silver pine. Something to gawk at, but never touch, lest she silently glide away into the night.

Madoka swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." She wanted so badly to hug the skinny flower, to hold her tight and exclaim that everything would be fine from now on. She would help Homura save the city from Walpurgisnacht.

"Are you headed that way?" Pointed out to the left. Somehow, she could recall Homura's apartment building's direction from the hospital... A faint remembering. A glimpse of the day that the girl had hugged her for the first time and cried.

"Would it be alright if I walked with you? My home is down that way too, and honestly, it scares me to walk alone sometimes." A sort of lie. Right now, she yearned to melt into the background of conversation between Sayaka-chan and Hitomi-chan. They would have saved her awkwardness.

That's right. Sayaka was alive in this timeline. Maybe Madoka could prevent her from despairing this time.

@clarafell

@shibemuses has traveled back in time.          —         ★

Time seemed to slow down as soon as the shorter girl reached out to grab both of her hands. It happens so quickly that Homura had no time to step away. She stiffens up in an instant, not expecting someone to be so... affectionate. So forward.

Homura stood very, very still. Her heart flutters, though she cannot tell if it's anxiety or something else. She stares down at the soft hands. They were pleasantly warm and so very soft, more soft than her uncalloused hands. She has always had a very cold touch to her body, especially her long and pale hands.

One of the nurses here, her only visitors when she wasn't met with doctors, compared her pale complexion to a flower known as the Diphylleia grayi. The more common name for this flower is the skeleton flower, though the flower-loving nurse was kind enough to not mention that part. It didn't matter, though. Homura already knew what that flower was since she owned a book on flowers. The outside world is often closed off to her since she was always stuck in the hospital, so much so that she can count the times she went outside on her hands.

Being so sheltered and restricted, books were her way of coping with pretty much everything in her life. It kept her mind from straying back to darker places, comforting her when she couldn't bring herself to speak up. She wasn't picky on what books to read, though she always had a preference for literature and poetry. She even explored mythology and history, two subjects she enjoyed quite well. She did, however, also enjoy to collect informative books. To learn about nature is something that speaks to her soul, so books would have to do.

The skeleton flower earns its name because the plain white petals, unassuming and plain, would turn clear as soon as the petals are met with liquid. It gives the impression that the flower has a skeleton, hence the name. Skeletons flowers are found in the northern part of central Japan, though Homura has never gotten the chance to see the flower in person. From what she has read, the symbolism of the skeleton flower is to be the delicate balance between life and death. The skeleton flower is often associated with purity, but there is also the impermanence of the flower to consider.

How fitting for someone like her. She wasn't meant for this world, barely hanging onto the life she has. The doctors said she's good to be discharged, but Homura knew the cycle. She would be back in the hospital. She wasn't sure when or where, but she knows she will not make it long. Something bad is bound to happen, she knows it...

She doubts the nurse meant any harm in her comment, most likely seeing it as a compliment. Homura, however, often read too much into things. For something about her to be compared to a flower had to be one of the nicest things she has heard in a long time, even though her gloomy mind is already spinning such a compliment into something negative. No one said anything nice to her back in Tokyo when she was attending her private Catholic school. She couldn't blame them for their lack of interest, but she always did wonder what she did to invoke their cruelty.

No one has ever wanted to touch her back in Tokyo. She looked more ghostly than girl, according to the students. Her lack of speaking only enhanced the rumors. She begun braiding her hair religiously in order to try to stop the spreading rumors about her actually being Sadako, but not even that stopped them from whispering. It was either cut her hair or braid it, but she couldn't bring herself to cut her hair. Even though she never liked herself, the thought of her in short hair was something she hated even more.

To be touched by someone is... strange. On one hand, she instantly wanted to pull away. On the other hand, she wants to bask in this tender moment. She couldn't remember having anyone hold her hands like that, certainly no one that has squeezed her hands with so much support. Torn up on what to do, Homura lingers in her spot.

❝ In... In a dream? ❞ Homura echoes back, confused. She looks back up, trying to see if she can detect a lie. She looks back down, feeling a frown beginning to form. This had to be some kind of prank, perhaps some kind of bizarre performance.

❝ You... I'm sorry, but you must be mistaking me for someone else. ❞ Unable to tell if this was a lie or a joke, Homura wretches her hands out of the girl's warm grasp. It pained her a little bit, but she had to do it. They were receiving a couple of stares, not too many, but it was too much for her to take. She also didn't typically enjoy being touched by strangers.

Homura planned to quickly excuse herself until she heard her own name being uttered. Though she was growing even more uncomfortable, she did have to admit that she really enjoyed hearing her name from the girl's lips. Part of her, something deep inside, longs to hear her name all over again. Such a pleasant, heavenly voice delicately saying her name. The way this girl, Madoka, spoke was almost as if her name is the thing she treasured more than—

Focus, Homura. She inhaled sharply, not prepared to be known by someone. Even if she spoke the truth about the nurse, Homura refused to completely let down her guard. The strange dream comment still rattled her nerves. It was beginning to feel more and more like a prank. She didn't know how Mitakihara students treated such late transfer students, but she wasn't expecting someone to come all the way to the hospital to prank her.

❝ Yes, that's my name... ❞ Homura frowns as she answers the question, wishing she could read Madoka's mind in this moment to discover the truth. Prank or no prank, it was so strange for someone to come here to introduce herself. She wasn't sure how to feel about it, but she thinks she didn't like this situation.

It wasn't Madoka's complete fault, though. She was never really the socializing type, so anything out of her comfort zone instantly made her flee. Surprises were never her thing, so all of this didn't sit well with her. Taking an even deeper breath, she tries to cut this conversation off before it became too much. She takes a small step back, hands still drawn close to her chest.

❝ It's, um, nice to meet you... ❞ She isn't sure if she was being sincere or not, but her politeness kicks in. ❝ But I really have to get going. I'm supposed to be going straight home. ❞ It wasn't like anyone is waiting for her at her home, though.

But Madoka didn't need to know about that part. She is still telling the truth, though. She has nothing else better to do than go straight home. All she did was phrase it a bit differently to imply that she had a loving family waiting for her to come back home. No one is waiting for her to come home, though.

[kalopsic-lagomorph]

FANTASTIC PLANET AU?????

[widowshill]

— But it's almost midnight. — Oh, that's the point! At the stroke of twelve, he turns into Dracula. C'mon, Vicki – he won't bite.

pose ref.

[wolfvirago]

"You look good in every photo, Cleo." Smoothly with an energy she hadn't expected from her own mouth, the shifter pushes any doubts aside. Hopefully, anyways.

"I like to draw the other students. Compare them to the myths the humans tell about us, so one day, they can see we're not bad. It's never like the movies." Shrugging a bit, Robin did relent, turning her phone around so the other could see the very candid photo.

"See? Not bad. More organic than asking you for a photoshoot, in my opinion."

@starsweepers

              “WELL DON’T MAKE ME double curse you, i’m trying to be nice now, don’t ruin this for me.”  cleo was clearly teasing, because there wasn’t an intention to curse over the image.  unless it was going to be given to her sister, THEN the mummy might actually reach for ancient artifacts.  anything for nefera to hold over her was worth being evil about… at least in the younger's mind.

       long inhale, trying to settle her jarred, not even currently present to her heart.  the ordeal still wasn’t p r e f e r a b l e, so she pulled out her diplomacy and a sweet smile.  “wouldn’t you at least like a prettier picture of me rather than whatever that face i’m making is?  and what are you drawing from it for anyways?”

[ofvanaheim]

"Is it awful of me to wish I'd been there to see the look on Harbard's face when you walked into that meeting?"

starter for @emeraldxphoenix, from lofn.

[wickedlehane]

@sunnydalescoobiies {buffy} gets a S4 AU based on this gifset

The first few weeks of school at UC Sunnydale weren't so bad, even if Faith was never the biggest fan of homework. But she liked the independent living, knowing she had a watcher for a safety net should anything go wrong out here on the Hellmouth -- since the last Slayer died, and so did the girl before that. Diana Dormer's own work required her to stay on the faculty back at Harvard, but she and Faith could communicate through the academic system (in addition to the good ol' fashioned phone).

Of course, college was a balancing act. Between her basic courses, psychology specialization, and nightly patrols, Faith knew she needed to carve out time to unwind with a little fun. Thankfully, UCSD had frats full of dudes looking to dance with the fresh meat.

Faith didn't really know any of these older guys, but she liked it that way. Made the chase more fun, and if she ended up in bed with someone, it was easier to fade into the night if they weren't sharing the personal stuff. She did recognize a few people from her classes, though -- not all the names were sticking, but the faces were familiar. Especially the blonde girl who was on the first floor of Stevenson Hall, and had a few courses with her including Psych with Professor Walsh. Bunny, or something? But the slayer wasn't exactly here to make small talk over homework assignments and the quality of dining hall food. So for now, she grabbed one of the cheap beers the boys were stocking and proceeded to dance her way to the center of the room with a guy or two hovering around her hips.

[wolfvirago]

unprompted asks [always accepting]

@rathalascendant said: Mari hands you a rosy-striped egg. It's large and radiates with heat. There's a little smirk on the rider's face, as though she knows what may hatch from it. "This one might be a handful, but don't worry about it. You can always come to me for questions you may have."

"Not that I don't appreciate the gift, but..." Looking from egg to human and back again, Robin couldn't help wondering what on earth Mari had just gotten her into. After all, the egg had been handed over with such a smirk on the other's face....

"Should I be worried?" The wolf finally shivered.

[artistmarchalius]

can you tell us more about broppy capture au?

Sure! Here’s a little somethin’ somethin’:

So, Branch didn’t confess his feelings to Poppy at the end of Word Tour, he felt like it needed to be its own thing and that Poppy deserved to be in the moment after saving the world. He thought there’d be plenty of time to confess later. They still have a good connection though now that they’re better at communicating.

They’re out in the hot air balloon on another adventure when a strong wind knocks them off course towards the woods near the base of Mount Rageous and they get stuck in a tree. They aren’t able to shift the balloon on their own so when they see Velvet and Veneer (who are out hunting for Trolls to use) they ask them for help, but instead V&V capture them.

V&V now have a Troll to use each (His and Hers Trolls) and because Velvet is more trigger happy with the spray bottle, Poppy deteriorates quicker than Branch.

[gohjuo]

memories of their teenage years where he could sense the stress off suguru's face & his own calm demeanor with a group of girls fawning over them. love letters & chocolates were in abundance as they were both popular for their looks even if suguru would politely play it off. they were no longer in bodies that hadn't grown into their own, wiser by the years, & bathed in the stresses of their own work; they had seen it all. ❛should i confess to you again? wouldn't that be romantic?❜ he's teasing as he leans his head against the other on their train ride . today suguru had been insistent on paying for him, so he doesn't argue & let him.

this time he leans in closer blocking him from the view of the passing landscape as he kisses his cheek. he was never one for the conservative nature of their society. he would lay his love out there like seashells washing up ashore for someone special to pick up. there was one, he had picked him up, a wonder to be cherished. satoru keep a tight grip on his present since he wanted suguru to wait to open it. he breaks away, eager in the way that kids get excited for their christmas presents. ❛how many more stops ? ❜

satoru takes the moment to grab his phone take a snap at his picture before posting it. public figure or not, he supposes he's been trying to blend more into society. ❛i'm not worried, just so you know. today is meant to be with you.❜

@getouh liked for a valentine's day starter

[asoulofstars]

@clawsextended for angst.

"Come here," Riona said gently.

She wasn't judging Selina at all. Losing Bruce had shaken her badly. But she was lucky enough that her twin daughters were only six, that they needed their mother to be present and not trapped in her grief, and she had to keep her head up.

She was also lucky, because she knew she had her family. Riona and Selina were friends, as much as Selina allowed anyone to be her friend, and Riona didn't know so many of the specific details about her. But Bruce loved and trusted Selina, and that was always enough, and now Bruce was gone, and all Riona could do was try to keep extending that warmth to Selina.

"I don't know how much you know about the stars, or how much you care about them, but Bruce showed me this spot here on the grounds that's private and helps hide the light pollution from the city the best."

[wolfvirago]

Head tilts, not unlike the lupine that the other blonde had described. Leaning forward, Robin rested her hands on her knees an tried to get closer. Was this a great, wondrous secret they were about to divulge??

"Really? How so?"

@wolfvirago ♥'d.

" I mean, aside from the wolf thing, I think we've got a lot in common! "

[lichtreich]

This should not have happened. Nothing like this should have ever been happened. Weakness like this, crumbling down around him in the flittering nuances of soft blues and bright whites illuminating the darkness with soft glows, the same way this prison keeps him contained, sapping his strength bit by bit [ all that was left? ] in that delirium they had left him in when only those capable [ had it been Yhwach? had it been him? ] served to save who had been so beyond saving. How long ago had that been now? Minutes? Hours? Days? Would it not all blend together with whatever breath he would heave into battered lungs and broken body? Nobody had touched him beyond the powers of the Quincy Emperor's abundant rage. Nobody else would likely dare to lay a hand on the Captain Commander that, as much as he could at least assume, was to be thought dead and forlorn to those still remaining in that beloved home of his.

He should have asked, should have inquired. Raised a voice past what he could fairly muster, demand a 'why?'! An explanation to whatever plan that old ---- comrade? - of his could have had, and yet when only finding enough thought and mind in him to realise that despite what he had done to him, he was alive and breathing and moving - there had been nothing of that sort. Impossible. Utterly impossible. These ruminations that would keep his mind from racing endlessly around an answer he would never find and never receive. Knowing as much that this torturous back and forth they would soon find themselves in was nothing if not a game to be played on the sidelines leading to a bigger goal. But as it was - he would do whatever in his possible might to undermine this megalomaniac's pursuit for---

Till he hears and feels them come back. Discardable movements of reishi in the walls and the halls, whatever the Quincy wanted with him would bring no satisfaction in his premeditated choice for muteness to be narrowed down towards the gruff replies of laboured breath. After all, that was the reason why his voice had refused to chime out before, why his tongue had rejected any exclamations to be formed, thankful though he should be in disparaging shattered expectations when all that he had been able to comprehend in this near-death state of his, was the disregard with which Yhwach spoke of the whole circumstance. A distant memory, but something of a softened cadence still chiming somewhere in the back of his mind.

" We will bring him to speak about it all later. Leave him to rest for now. "

As if it were merely nothing but a pastime activity to fill out his dull little life with. If he had been the slightest further along in regaining his strength, surely enough, an outburst of different proportions would have underlined his boiling and burning displeasure, raging and raving somewhere in the pits of his stomach, but it was not good enough. Ryūjin Jakka was gone - and all hope forlorn to ever get him back from a madman dangling the very safety of those dear, cherished, adored in front of him like a priced possesion the moment he would surely step back into his field of vision. He had taken so much from him. Why go to that length? Issue a means to keep him alive. Why do such a thing beyond the knowledge that those Yamamoto wanted to be safe, he never would have any power again to attempt such a ludicrous thought with? At least, that is all that his mind came up with for hours and hours slowly spiralling back into reality. It was an interesting spectacle. To follow the pulsing reels of power, like little rivulets of gleaming water travelling along the otherwise unassuming bars of this prison cell he had been thrown into.

He had seen that before. In a better time. In a kinder past. The Quincy ways of using and utilizing reishi to its capacity in ferocious purity. It was beautiful - really---

" Are you willing to speak to us now? "

What a nonsensical question. And if he would have had it in him, a burst of huffed-out laughter would have left his lips. There was nothing to be done past defiance, glaring up from where he sat at the far end of the cell, his minutes till Yhwach had arrived with his - entourage [ he remembers the boy's name, Jugram, was it not? ] - spent looking at the bindings slung around his form in means and creations to simultaneously keep him contained and his brittle form from falling apart. Fine leashed, knitted and woven together into a sort of net, imbued and enriched with a reiatsu he did not know and could not make out. But if he had a guess: it was from the cursed King's aide. What a beguiling contraption, the twelfth division's Captain may find interest in it.

Past all these ideas he had occupied himself with , there was no reply. Not even a huff leaving dry lips was it enough to elicit a chuckle from Yhwach himself, moving and shifting, lowering past his graces to crouch down in front of his captive to keep him just on eye level as much as it had ever been possible. Their stature had been contemptuously different, ever since they'd known each other - but it had never mattered. Never come to light. Never been of interest. Past how it would be now.

" Fine then. " In a sense, at times, he hated how this man could speak. How every single syllable brought forth was nothing if not ridiculing a situation of dire need, burning it down into nothing but a silly little cumbersome realisation that needed no explanation past whatever the Captain Commander may have wanted to offer in reply. Nothing it was. And nothing would remain. " It doesn't quite matter if you talk or not. I am quite sure that you know where you ended up and what will happen now. " Does he truly know? Out of the corner of his eye Genryūsai would catch the incredulous expression the youth wore. All but a motion enough that could make him doubt that he was anywhere in or even only near the Wandenreich, anywhere even only close to that precious place where all those residents who still held his heart and who would keep it for him intact and unmarred would remain. But there was, as he could feel that ache rippling through him, masked soon enough with that slightest hiss to cover it as if pains could shoot from gaping wounds, that one person whose piece would remain missing to fill him whole.

He had lost Akime. He had lost Sasameki too.

If only - if only he had been there. If only he had not sent her there! If only he had known - if only he had killed him so many years ago.

It's a snap when his gaze of angry fire would find the Quincy's own, having long since subsided to desire to say something, anything, would he feel his eye bear upon him in trying to pull out bit by bit the pieces of information he was yet hiding. If the Shinigami had been any stronger than he was right now, perhaps a chiding remark of using that wretched and cursed power of his own to realise and figure out the truths still hidden away - but in a sense, mayhap Yamamoto was glad to find that he held no interest in it per se. Questions. Demands. Wishes. - to know the why, the reasons behind the King's refusal to use the Almighty, would die in the back of his throat the instance he watched Yhwach's companion stir.

Having stood there as unmoving as a marble statue, leant against the wall right next to his enclosure, for they had moved the Captain to the one farthest away, the one the most solitary, where none could find him, even if they were to search. He had just stood there, no motions past in reaction to his Master's words, there had been nothing to imply that Jugram's alertness could be disturbed, could be broken, redirected to something else that was not that little, near intimately private interaction between two enemies that so starkly, so absurdly, seemed like they had been so close. Old friends turned to foes, turned into nemesis, enemies at each other's throats. Perhaps Yhwach's sudden benevolence to save his old comrade from injuries that would have been an undoing to anybody else, was it not a testament of that?

No--- no.

A broken and shattered remaining pride as it was that sudden shift of the atmosphere, still uncommented by the Ruler of these Lands, that finally, finally offered a realisation past what he had been able to comprehend. To pick up. How could it have been that only now that very small, fragile little presence had become known to him? How could he have ignored it so easily before? Drowned out beneath powers of immeasurable worth, near a bulwark to even restrict breathing, to find that bit of a soul that had followed him [ why had he followed him? how had he followed him? ], now caught like a mouse in a trap. Overhelmed. Confused. Amongst this onslaught of spiritual pressure, even only with his own in that unkempt and uncontained state of ghastly injuries, it would be too much, but with the two rulers so near? He was far too young for this, panic rising in the boy's rapidly beating heart, like a little rabbit caught in a predator's grasp, a lion about to play with nought but a rodent and he could swear - swear like it was.

He could hear nought but a fine whine of pure terror rising from Kagerō's throat. Soft and deliberately low, trying to keep himself hidden in that shadow he had been trapped into, traversing through it near naturally like his father had attained as a power of mirth and play, the boy was far too young. Perhaps caught in an attempt to find a safe place, misplaced the fact that these murmurming and whispering shadows were nothing like his dear Sire's, how could he have known?

And what was there to even do?

He still could feel Yhwach's stare. As if testing to find whatever question he could ask him in an attempt to figure out a reaction past that obvious disregard for the danger he had found himself in. There was, undoubtedly, a myriad of things that there could be exchanged in voices ranging from subtle hums and droning frenzy to agitated screams and feverish accusations. But it all turned to nothing, to the stone of a mien unwavering in the eyes of something whose pure raised hand could kill him if he willed it - but he would not [ don't they both know? ].

( ' --- what… what should I do… I'm scared… I'm scared. ' )

It was like an insufferable fever dream. There was no voice. Yet a voice was meandering through the stone wall, permeating the unmoving air of dampened hall and he wonders, he could only wonder: if Yhwach was not aware? If he was willfully ignoring the man standing at near predatory attention behind him, within that twitch - that subtle twitch - of his hand underlining the knowledge that: yes, if he wanted to, he could reach into the masonry work to tear out the boy like an eagle would pinpoint take a mouse out of the air with precision and deadly grace. It was a nightmare come true, and a nightmare he hoped it would be. For him, and his grandson.

In those torturing, maddening seconds that have him wince and writhe as if to underline the fact that he wanted to just be a bit more comfortable in that strain of wounds inflicted on him. He had been cut in half, was that not right? Lost his remaining arm too? Thoughts of nothing and everything when only grounding himself out that this could not be Kagerō. This could not be true. There was no possible explanation that for all that way out and through miles and miles of powers that should guard secrecy like this. This could not be real.

Please don't let it be real.

( ' … I don't know what to do. … Jiichan--- please… help me. ' )

This can not be real.

He knows Kagerō does not answer him, hears that voice as a maniacal fine little sing-song somewhere in the back of his mind, the very pretence of what could be in a near shell-shocked state to keep up a facade breaking and cracking at a moment's notice with each breath he takes in laboured attempts. Heavier and heavier. As if he would drown in whatever frenzy was there to envelop him whole---

--- he should be dead and this whole little dreadful subterfuge of delusions was nothing more than an attempt to drive him mad. He knew what the Quincy were capable of, this could be nothing else. With the sensations and voices and drawn-out pleas, it could be nought else but an attempt to have him kneel in front of a fiendish King. So he had brought himself to close his eyes in an attempt to shut out all the sensations that could sway him to bring forth any words of commentary nature to be seen as a weakness in this demented process. It could be nought else but deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, where nothing should ever reach his heart. His dear little grandson could not be here, he was safe. He was safe back in Soul Society---

But the thought only lasted within that sigh he exhaled. His eye cracks open for but a margin and he realised it. The fact that Yhwach had lost his interest in trying to figure out how to get him to speak, had turned, still crouched down, to just follow his Grandmaster's gaze transfixed on a point in the wall. No words were spoken, no question dropped, the sheer acceptance that there was a trail of thought to be followed after with all but curious gaze. From the young man's back over the slant and tilt of his head, down and down, snaking in an invisible, maze-like path over the cracks of stones, towards the unmistakable place where Yamamoto, as well, could see him. Kagerō. Sitting there like a scared, cornered little soul, watching and waiting, having caught his beloved Grandfather's worry.

( '… he sees me. What should I do Jiichan, please, help me… what should I do? ' )

It was an unbearable amount of torture. And finally, he moves. How about - they play a game? He had thought as much, even knowing how impossible, improbable, a chance for success even was, watching this scene like a fawn would be caught before two wolves, ready to tear it out of its hideout, to string it up, pull it open without any remorse. Sheer regard for power discrepancy, within that fact, that this whole scene moved like it would take a thousand years, had he already brought an injured hand to his lips. It was a gesture of hide and seek - play this game to stay as silent as only possible, to be as imperceptible as only you would be capable and be still.

Be so still.

Do not move.

It will be alright.

It will be fine.

This very gesture would remain hidden from the two men that had captured a foe of insurmountable power and will, reduced to nought but an attempt in bringing peace to a scared, little child. Hope to brew that, by some strange stroke of luck, this could be ended favourably. Hope to rise in his mind that if it all came down to it, whatever he could offer for the Quincy Emperor would be good enough to have the boy be spared and leave him unharmed, wishful thinking in that essentially hysterical haze that his mind had thrown itself into. Everything. Anything possible to have his sweet little boy come out as unharmed as it was only a dire need to remain.

" It is just a mouse, Jugram. Ignore it. "

It was as if a dam had broken over both their heads. His hand was quick enough to find a place back at his side, barely adjusted as if to give the intention and keep up the facade that the noise of fabric brushing against each other had just been him attempting to be that bit more comfortable. That bit more at ease in front of a monster who had shown benevolence unexpected to come down upon them. He wanted to ask why. Yet he dares it not. Dares not to break whatever quip had driven Yhwach to release his child from the heavy tenor of a terror befalling them both, for he had not been able to hide it. Had not been able to keep it all contained in that slight moment his gaze had found Kagerō's to play with him a game so well known and so well loved, his eyes had been filled with the same sheer dread of hopelessness as the youth's very own.

He desired just with all he had, that this would lead to nought at all.

( ' A mouse…. yes. I am a mouse. Nothing… but a mouse. ' )

And within the steep ridiculousness of this back and forth that had drawn and dragged itself out over nothing but a mere ten heartbeats rushing in his ears, Jugram relented. Moved back to his place as if he had never been caught by the urge to break open the wall, tear out the child, and make an example of what could only be called foolish disobedience before those that had conquered it all. No, he was calm, and collected. Closing his eyes while leaning back against the wall next to them like nothing, nothing in that maddening moment of shattering realisations had ever happened - the very realisation that, if nothing would be done.

All he would want would be in the mad King's hands. " So. " It snaps Yamamoto back, makes him blink, that ease in which his old - friend - knew how to get a reaction where just so often Genryūsai had refused in mild jest to give it to him all those years ago--- and he felt Kagerō gone when only that memory came rushing back to him. Whatever it was Yhwach wanted to say now---

--- there was left nothing but to listen to him. || ♡ @jinjahime | @bornhollow | @hxbiris

[erabundus]

permanently delete this photo?

thumb  jabs  against  the  YES  prompt  hard  enough,  the streamer  (  briefly  )  worries  he  might  crack  the  screen.  he  swipes  to  the  next  picture  —  a  stray  cat  pressing  its  face  into  an  outstretched  hand ...  a  field  of  forget-me-nots,  their  petals  a  soft  blue  the  color  of  robin  eggs ... kazuha  sleeping  on  his  shoulder.  ren  PAUSES  only at  the  last  one. his expression is a carefully calculated mask — unreadable, even now. even devoid of witnesses to glimpse it. as if allowing so much as a scrap of emotion to wash over his features will wreak irreparable havoc on his composure.

he isn't upset. there's no reason to be upset — because ( as far as ren is concerned ) the person he might be upset over no longer EXISTS. he was never a part of his life and these pictures are nothing but a saccharine farce that conceal months of intermittent misery. it's better off this way. he's better off this way.

... perhaps if he keeps telling himself that, he may genuinely start to believe it.

permanently delete this photo?

ren doesn't hesitate to hit yes.

[sylleblosscm]

@monarchborn x

Luna's room within the citadel has always been more of a welcoming gesture than a place of her own, as she prefers to sleep at home. Yet these past nights as the visions come more vividly, she finds herself afraid to sleep at all, let alone leave these hallowed halls.

It is no less frightening every time, awakening into the dark of night and somehow knowing that it is not meant for her to see. This is a mistake, and likely the consequences would be severe. But Luna cannot think of those, not knowing all that is to come.

She opens the door into the Citadel's private gardens, praying the fresh air shall clear her mind. She does not expect to find the King there also, and her heart sinks. How is she to face him, knowing she shall one day fail his son? Knowing that he, who has been as a second father to her all these years, shall soon meet his end within these very walls? Luna knows she needs to tell someone. She knows she will be believed. But this happy life of hers will come to an end as soon as she speaks those words aloud, and she is not ready for it.

She hesitates, wondering briefly if she ought to sneak back inside. But the door is loud and heavy, and she does not doubt she has been heard. So instead Luna offers a quiet, ❝Your Majesty. My apologies, I did not realise you were here.❞